Tonight, though, I simply had to look away. I couldn't watch. I had to diassociate myself, turn away, pretend it wasn't happening, just will it to be over as soon as possible.

The really annoying part? I got about half as much as I was expecting for all the DVDs and CDs I sold at Amoeba. I'm an American, so it hurts to part with my possessions, even for a good cause, and insult is added when I have to undersell. Still, I accomplished my primary goal: justifying the cost of these boots. I owe a few people a lot of money, people who are probably reading this page, but I do require new footwear, and I don't splurge often. Besides, as Taos pointed out, I've earned it.

See? They have to keep me.

6:35pm

We're having corporate visitors tomorrow, clients (potential or otherwise) of our non-adult services. So, we've been asked to de-pr0n our desks. Ironically, I actually brought in my poster of David Cronenberg's Crash this morning, but haven't put it up yet. Decisions, decisions.

My radio show is tonight. Not really feeling up for it—my stomach continues to unhappy with me—but I'm going all the same. When my mom talked me out of going barhopping on Saturday night, I commented that as soon as I got back into town, I was so going to hit the Lexington. (Which I then had to explain as being a dyke bar.) The Lex is right around the corner from the station, but my body probably won't be up for going, thus saving me from an hour or so of not talking to anyone, of neither picking up nor getting picked up upon. Kinda like my mom did.

Speaking of Crash, the official website from '97 is still up. It's an "intense, high bandwidth site," so described because of the heavy use of animated gifs and embedded music. Those were the days, huh?

At a Japanese restaurant this evening, I saw a pigtailed blonde girl who couldn't have been more than five years old eat sushi with chopsticks. If children in Fresno are being started that young, then maybe there's hope for the species after all.

Doesn't take much for me to lose that hope.

I got so little sleep because the Serenity screening got out well past midnight. It was worth it, though. I haven't been part of a big fannish movie event in several years—the opening night of Star Trek: Insurrection, maybe?—and not much has changed. The Trio from Buffy would have felt right at home, though I'm sure the people in costume would have disagreed. In any event, I'm glad I didn't watch the trailer first, as everyone else seemed to. It's kinda nice to be surprised, which is why I've avoided the Hitchhiker's Guide trailer as well.

The one thing I expect from a teevee show turned movie is good cinematography. If you don't light it dramatically, there isn't much point. (This is why The Motion Picture and Generations are among my favorite Star Trek movies: whatever their story problems, they're gorgeous to look at. I consider First Contact and Wrath of Khan to be somewhat flat in comparison.) Serenity delivered nicely, I'm happy to say.

11:11pm

Tomorrow night, I hope to check out a couple of Fresno's queer bars, something I've never really been able to do before. It'll probably prove as uneventful as a trip to the Lex or any other such place here in town, but you never know.

See the animal in his cage that you built,
Are you sure what side you're on?
Better not look him too closely in the eye,
Are you sure what side of the glass you are on?
See the safety of the life you have built,
Everything where it belongs
Feel the hollowness inside of your heart,
And it's all...right where it belongs

What if everything around you,
Isn't quite as it seems?
What if all the world you think you know,
Is an elaborate dream?
And if you look at your reflection,
Is it all you want it to be?
What if you could look right through the cracks,
Would you find yourself...find yourself afraid to see?

What if all the world's inside of your head?
Just creations of your own
Your devils and your gods, all the living and the dead
And you're really all alone
You can live in this illusion
You can choose to believe
You keep looking but you can't find the ones,
Are you hiding in the trees?

What if everything around you,
Isn't quite as it seems?
What if all the world you used to know,
Is an elaborate dream?
And if you look at your reflection,
Is it all you want it to be?
What if you could look right through the cracks,
Would you find yourself...find yourself afraid to see?

Trent Reznor,
"Right Where It Belongs"

Speaking of seeing things—or, rather, not being seen, one of the regulars told that a picture and bio of me was printed in the Chronicle's Datebook section, promoting the Tranny Roadshow in Berkeley. Presumably, it was from this page. I had no idea. By my math it would have been in the March 27 issue, which also happens to be the day I broke up with Maddy. Lovely. I'm sure there probably people who find that significant somehow.

Aside from myself and Monkey, the promoter, the only person to show up for Club Pirate Cat was my old friend Sara. Quality always trumps quantity, though, and it was great to see her. We haven't really talked since...well, a very long time ago. She runs a monthly club called Swirl at the same venue, and has suggested me being a guest DJ in a couple months. Yay for gigs of all kinds.

3:03pm

The good: a Czechoslovakian bisexual pr0n movie featuring a really hot girl in glasses and dark clothes. Okay, dark lingerie, but complete with lace gloves. And she even keeps them on. Okay, that picture is obviously from early on in the movie, so here's one from closer to the money shot. I'm telling you, lose out the boys and increase the amount of arty college girls, and you're onto something.

It occurs to me that Danielle did at least one pr0n movie that we know of, The Casting Whip, under the name Danielle Hell. She says she did a couple others, including at least one with Kelly Michaels, but she doesn't remember what they're called, and I can't find any evidence of them online. All the same, I just might be able to get The Casting Whip at a substantial discount. Worth a shot.

The bad: Miss Gaye Universe I have no problem with pageants. (I won't participate, but I have no problem with their existence. It's the spelling? "Gaye?" What's with the E? What the fuck is this, colonial America? It feels almost like they're trying to distance themselves from the word "gay." We're Not Like Those Filthy Gay People! We're Gaye! I mean, though accurate, gay isn't the word I tend to use to describe myself; I prefer queer, especially since "gay" tend to connote being male, and I find queer to be more inclusive.

Gaye, though? No. No, no, no. Don't even try. You're gay, you're queer, you're a fag just like the rest of us, whether male or female-identified. Deal with it, and don't be afraid of it.

3:50pm

Since this week hasn't been busy enough, I've decided to go to Fresno tomorrow. I haven't seen my mother since the breakup (not since Thanksgiving, actually), and we need to talk. For that matter, I should go see my father, too. And getting away from the City for a few days, would probably good thing. Maybe some driving and a change of scenery will help clear my muddled head. Fresno's not the most therapeutic place there is, but it's the best I can do. I think this may be the first time I've gone there alone since I moved away eleven years ago.

Ideally I'd have tonight to pack and relax a little, but no; I'm going to what is rumored to be an advanced screening of Serenity, Joss Whedon's movie version of his cancelled teevee show Firefly. The tickets sold out fast, but Collette managed to snag a few. As I say, it's still a rumor. One which seems to have a lot of supporting evidence, but part of me is still expecting it to be Revenge of the Sith or something along those lines. Not hoping, mind you, though I'd get a kick out of the audience's reaction.

Collette will be sitting Perdita while I'm gone. I feel a little guilty, disappearing for a weekend after I've scarcely been home this week, but Perdita can handle it, and I'm sure Collette will make her feel plenty loved. There was a bit of a controversy about that decision, as Maddy has some issues with Collette, and had also hoped to get sitting duties. Thing is, she's at least an hour away on the Muni, and Collette can drive over in about two minutes. No contest. But nothing is ever simple.

My niece Shandon is moving into San Francisco on June 1. Problem is, she starts her new job in town a few weeks before that, so she'll be staying at the Cozycave in the meantime. For some of the meantime, anyway. I'm gone during the day as well as many evenings, so it shouldn't be too impractical, plus if she's working evenings that means someone will be there for a while during the day with Perdita. So, that's a good thing.

Still feels really weird, though. The last time I had a houseguest for that duration was Imani in November '99. Two days after Imani left, Maddy moved in. I know that won't happen again, that this doesn't mean I'm about to get into another long-term relationship, that history won't repeat itself. But I'm surprising even myself with just how gunshy I am. I think it's going to be a long time before I realize the depth of my issues, before I learn how not to flinch...

sometime after midnight

The movie was indeed Serenity. Overall, tonight was the most fun I've had in a googolplex in years, and Gina Torres is as much of a hottie in person as she is on screen.

That I was able to spend so much time writing, or at least attempting to write, is the point of the recent major changes in my life. One of the points, anyway. When it's discussed at all, usually in forums to which I am not directly privy, my desire to not be in a relationship (with or without Maddy, monogamous or otherwise) is the focus. And why not? That's the more dramatic and juicy stuff, isn't it? And then when you throw in me already (already!) dating someone, a mutual friend no less, and even physical evidence left behind if you squint and use your imagination—what else does there need to be?

I would not have been able to finish the piece this weekend if I had not been able to set my own schedule, to come and go as I pleased, if I had some sort of commitment to another person. To be able to do so is one of the reasons I broke up with Maddy.

Not this piece in particular, of course, though it did prove to be a catalyst. As is often the case on weekends, I woke up before her on Sunday, March 27. I wrote about the Purim reading from the night before, then worked on the piece for the book. After she got up, I moved to the couch and read so she could use the computer to get her morning LiveJournal fix. Around noon, she asked if we could watch one of the movies she'd rented the night before. It was really bad, as we knew it would be, but fun. Given what happened next, it's hard not to wish it had been something with a little more substance.

Afterwards, I got back on the computer to start writing again. Maddy said she wanted to watch another movie with me, pointing out that I'd already written for a few hours that morning. As is so often the case with couples as dramatically fucked up as ourselves, one thing lead to another, A few hours later, I broke up with her.

The actual process of speaking the breakup aloud and thus making it flesh was long and drawn out, filled with minutes of silence as I mustered up the courage. I'd known for a long time (weeks? months? years? don't ask me, I don't know) that it would happen, and after seeing The Nice Lady on Friday I realized it had to be sooner rather than later.

There was a moment when I knew it happen now: Maddy said she felt like I was taking advantage of her by staying in the relationship, since she was employed and I was not. This was something that had come up before, the idea that if I could support myself financially, I'd break up with her. I couldn't say that she was wrong. Part of the horror of losing my last two jobs had been the feeling that I was once again beholden to her, that she would have to continue to support me.

So, having very little money and no immediate prospects (aside from an interview the next day at a pr0n company, which would surely go nowhere), no way to pay the next month's rent, I broke up with her. the moment i let go of it...

I can now write, or do whatever I want, whenever I want. I need to make the most of this new, alien freedom.

sometime after midnight

Anatomy of an unintentional tease. I'm DJing at the reopened and relocated Club Pirate Cat this evening. I'm flying solo; indeed, there's nobody left but me, the two owners of the bar, and the cute bartender. I'm enjoying myself and dancing to the music I'm playing, however, so it's all good. I return from the restroom to find the aforementioned cute bartender left a note taped to my Mac, containing one word: snog?

It's a music request, of course. But damn if it didn't get my hopes up for a moment.

Even less fun than just looking at him is having written several novels about boys who resemble him, and thus having people assume you are still attracted to his type, or even occasionally having his type come on to you. These days, if I'm anything, I guess I am kind of a chubby chaser.

It hadn't occurred to me, but yeah, the main characters of her early novels are quite twinkalicious. Goth twink, no less. Hey—that's not a bad idea, providing one's measure of good and bad are determined by potential profit, and—oh. It's been done. Figures. (That link contains explicit male nudity. I'm not going to disclaim about that anymore, because if you haven't figured that out when I'm talking about gay pr0n, you don't deserve to be warned.) I do find myself wondering if these pictures were originally supposed to be some kind of Matrix reference, and have since been repurposed. Or maybe the other way around.

4:21pm

Another breakup, another Nine Inch Nails album. Though it was released today, I've been listening to the new album for the last two weeks. I'm a pirate. Arrrr. Anyway, while overall it isn't resonating as much for me The Fragile (which I believe will eventually be considered Trent's masterpiece), the last two songs are miles above the others, and may well be the best material he's ever recorded.

She is also not lacking claws, which is why I may not get to keep her. The language of the as-yet unsigned adoption papers implies very strongly that if I have any intention of getting her declawed, they may take her away. And the fact is, I do intend to have her declawed if I feel it's necessary. (Please don't bother emailing me with your personal views on why declawing is terrible and inhumane, because I've heard it, okay? You aren't going to be the one to show me the error of my ways.) I briefly considered just lying on the application—me? i would never consider such a thing! why, i'm insulted that you would suggest that I could be so cruel and barbarous as that!—but, no. Fuck that. I'm sick of dishonesty, of false fronts, of pretending to be who and what I'm not, and what I am is a person who doesn't think declawing is bad thing, especially for indoor-only cats. If she was going outside, then yes, absolutely, she would need her claws. Ironically, another requirement is that the cat stay indoors, where the claws are needed the least. Feh.

I guess we'll see what happens. If they decide to take her back because they realize I'm a bad person, fine. I'll be sad, but I won't fight them, either. I refuse to get into a custody battle, and there are always going to be cats who need homes.